The Nightmares That Plague Us
by eskalations
Summary: Primrose Rue Mellark has to live with her parent's burdens, the screaming, the memories, the nightmares. But she must hold it together, if it means keeping everyone else sane.


Here's just a oneshot about Katniss and Peeta's daughter that came to me in the middle of the day. I hope you enjoy it. And please review.

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The soft bedding around me couldn't give me the comfort I needed at a time like this, the mid-morning, a frantic scream coming from the room next door, it was all too much to handle.

I hear the familiar comforting words, the words used to fight off any nightmare, and then again the silence engulfs me, just as it had before.  
This is how it is every morning, why would I ever expect anything else?

My name is Primrose Rue Mellark, but people simply call me Rue. I'm now fourteen years old, but I feel about forty. I'm the daughter of two of the hunger games most famed victors, the daughter of the mockingjay. But I just like to call those two people Mom and Dad.

I have a younger brother, he's only ten though and a younger version of my Dad. Cinna is fortunate though that he has an older sister who protects him from this torture.

I force myself to understand, I know it must be hard living with the burdens they have to carry on with. Some nights it's Mom who wakes screaming bloody murder and others it's Dad, but soon after both find comfort from the other.

Cinna was suppose to sleep in this room, but being the older one and knowing about the nightmares that took place in the room next to mine, I convince my parents to let him sleep in the room downstairs. I had to do everything I could to protect him from the harsh world that they used to know, that I felt now exposed to.

My parent's burden was quickly becoming mine, I woke up at night in a cold sweat after imagining what I would feel like running away from Capitol mutts and being slowly torn apart by their teeth.

School was no easier in the spring, that's when we had our Hunger Game period unit. They make us watch countless re-runs of the games to show us how cruel life truely was years ago. The one game we spend the most time on is the one my parent's competed in, along with the Quarter Quell where my Mom defeated the gamemakers.

When I see my Father lying there close to dying, my Mother trying desperately to bring him back to health, it makes me want to run as fast from the room as I can. But I can't.

I want to see what leads to their nightmares, I need to know. Both of my parent's are so brave and to see something like nighttime terrors scare them more than the real world, it truly is mind blowing.

Cinna soon will learn about their past, in the fourth grade is when they begin to go over the games. It has changed from when I was younger,  
they taught it in Kindergarten but too many children were plagued with nightmares so they had to come up with an age at where they taught the cruelty of the world that was the Capitol.

I let out a huge sigh, it's earlier then usual but I know I cannot fall back asleep. Getting out of bed, my joints pop and I stretch my arms above my head hoping to get the tension from my shoulders to disappear. I walk over to my vanity and pick up the hairbrush, quickly putting my long black hair back in a messy ponytail.  
Padding across the carpet, I enter my large walk in closet but just grab the first pair of jeans and t-shirt I can find,throwing them on, and quickly walk out. I have to get to the kitchen.

Leaving my room, I walk down the hall to the stairs and slowly descend trying as hard as I can to keep my noise to a minimum. Reaching the bottom,  
I walk down the hall to the pristine white kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, I smile at this perfect little piece of my home. Ever since I was a toddler my comfort has come from this room. My Father and I shared the same love to bake and cook all sorts of things while my Mother and Cinna found their peace in the woods.

I walk over to where Mom left her muddy hunting boots beside the door and pick them up, placing them outside on the back porch. I am the responsible one in the house I guess you could say, I clean, and sometimes cook, and all sorts of things, that's why I feel like I'm forty because I'm treated like I am.

I have calmed myself down from the wake up call and now am ready to take on my next challenge; breakfast.

Fixing breakfast is something I do occasionally on these mornings when I just can't force myself to sleep, it gives me something to focus on and relaxes me. Mom and Dad havn't ever really thought anything about it, and as far as they knew I slept like a rock. Never would I tell them that their screaming woke me every morning.

"Why are you up?" The voice startled me and I nearly drop the plate that I am holding to the floor, but I quickly compose myself.

"I'm making breakfast," I tell my Father as I turn to face him, the plate still gripped tightly between my hands. His golden shaggy hair is almost completely covering his big blue eyes, the ones that are identical to mine. His night clothes show that he has been sweating, I guess that means he had just woken from one of his nightmares.

"Rue, it's 5:00 a.m. in the morning. If you start making breakfast now,  
it will be cold before anyone even wakes up," I hadn't even looked at the time, I assumed it was later though. Putting the plate back, I grab a hot chocolate packet from the countainer on the granite counter.

"You want some?" I ask avoiding his eyes as I grab two coffee mugs from the cupboard above my head. I don't need an answer, he's always up for hot chocolate.

"Sure," Is all he says as the sound of the microwave heating up our beverages fills the room. He wants to talk, I can tell, but I don't know what it could be about.

The timer goes off and scares both of us, causing my Father to quickly clench his fist and tense up, but once he realizes it was just the microwave the tension leaves. Quietly I place the mugs on the breakfast table that sits in our kitchen, both of us take seats and sip the beverage thoughtfully before my father breaks the silence.

"You know what time of year it is?" Spring. I know. It's a lot sooner than I thought.

"Yeah. Are you and Mom going to tell him or are they going to?" His eyes are clouded with thoughts as his fingers drum on the table, thinking of his answer.

"We are going to let him find out from the school, like you did. Rue,  
we can't relive those memories," Oh I know Dad, but the thing is you relive them every night in your dreams.

We sit there staring off in space, trying to find words that will never come. I know he needs someone to talk to, and Mom can't be burdened with anymore of his pain then she already is, but I'm only fourteen and am not the most comforting person.

"I smelt hot chocolate," A chipper voice says from the entry of the kitchen, instantly I can tell it's Cinna. Who else at about now 6 in the morning would be happy as a clam and could smell hot chocolate from his room? Dad and I chuckle as he tries to understand how to make the wonderful liquid, reading the instructions but not grasping the right idea.

"Give me the Package Cinna," Rolling my eyes, I take the hot chocolate pouch from my little brothers hands and begin the process of making hot chocolate.

After it's done, I hand it to him and watch as the two men of the house head for the living room to watch television, my Father affectionately ruffling his son's hair.

Breafast takes an hour to make this morning, I fry the bacon, make the waffles, and pour the orange juice in record timing. Right when I'm setting the last plate of food on the table, my Mother walks in.

Her black hair is in its signature braid, her grey eyes are tiredly looking around the room, the bags underneath them even more noticeable then usual. Already she is dressed in her hunting outfit, and I assume she is looking for her boots.

"Their outside," I tell her as she snaps back to reality, seeing my for the first time. A gentle smile lights up her face as she grabs me for a hug. This is how it is every morning, I guess her nightmare's must include me and Cinna considering how happy she is when she sees us in the morning,  
well not necessarily happy but relieved.

The look she gives me is the only thank you I need as she continues to the living room where I expect she will hug both my brother and father.

"Breakfast is ready!" I yell with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, taking my seat at the table and welcoming the others.

Looking at the faces of my family around me, I realize that I must keep playing the game I have gotten myself into, and protect them from the nightmares that plague them.

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A/N#2: Review?


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